


Rattle the Stars

by SailorGirl1319



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: ACOTAR - Freeform, F/M, ooc probably, sarahjmaas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 15:54:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14980493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailorGirl1319/pseuds/SailorGirl1319
Summary: Together, they would take on armies.





	Rattle the Stars

Never, in a million years, did Rhysand think he would see a warrior of Cassian’s caliber. Other than Cassian himself, of course. He watched with interest as the warrior twirled in the air, dancing around the Illyrians with ease. Down below, the males watched as she disarmed each one, feathered wings still pristine. She was a Seraphim who chose to stay behind in Prythian after the war, though Rhysand did not know just how skilled she was. He’d have to bring her to Cassian. Or Cassian to her. 

 

_Having fun?_ Feyre asked through the bond, and Rhysand sent her the memory of the female warrior.

 

_Damn. On par with Azriel?_ Feyre commented.

 

_On par with Cassian. The Illyrians didn’t even touch her._ Rhys felt her laugh on the other side, and spread his wings, ready to fly down to the training grounds to meet the warrior. 

 

He shot up into the sky, spinning before tucking his wings and falling to the ground, opening at the last minute to bring himself to the training grounds. The winged-warriors all bowed, eyeing him warily. The Seraphim, however, only glanced up from checking her wings. The Lord of the camp kicked her, and she let her wing go, batting him and sending him stumbling backward. Feyre would love her. 

 

“He’s not my High Lord, I don’t have to bow,” She muttered, standing up and looking at Rhys. 

 

“You’re in his territory,” The lord snapped, clearly afraid of what Rhys would do to both him and the girl. 

 

“Your fighting skills are impressive,” Rhys complimented, and she blushed. 

 

“You didn’t see her fight in the war,” One of the warriors said. “That was _nothing_.” 

 

“I’m Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court.” 

 

“Cahira,” she replied, offering her hand. He took it, shaking it. 

 

“An honor.” 

 

“The honor is mine.”

 

“Had I not just witnessed you practicing, I would believe it.” She laughed. 

 

“I would like you to meet my brothers, Cassian and Azriel, at some point. I am disappointed we did not meet following the battle.” 

 

“Will Cassian put up a fight?” She mused, and the others scowled. “Or will fighting with Azriel be better?” 

 

“If I tell him he doesn’t need to go easy or teach you anything. Both are exponentially better than these warriors. They’re my general and spymaster for a reason,” Rhys added before protests could erupt. 

 

“Take me to the General, then,” she smirked, sheathing her blade. He offered his hand, ready to winnow her to the war camp. 

 

“Perhaps we could fly.” She took off before he could say anything, and he shot after her, leading her towards the camp. 

 

“Slowpoke!” She called with a grin, shooting past him in the sky. 

 

“You don’t know where you’re going!” He called after he.

 

“I’m willing to bet that the camp with the female Illyrians in the air is where he is.” Rhys squinted, seeing the girls in the air. He scowled, pushing himself faster to catch up. 

 

_Jealous?_ Feyre teased, and he scowled again. She laughed on the other side of the bond. 

 

_My wings are heavier,_ He retorted. 

 

_They’re also bigger._ Rhysand landed next to Cassian, who had his eyes on Cahira, who was hovering near the sparring girls. 

 

“The Seraphim who stayed behind,” Cassian muttered to Rhysand. 

 

“Cahira,” Rhysand agreed. “She’s quite the warrior.” Cahira looked down, grinned and dove towards them, landing only a foot away from Cassian. 

 

“You must be General Cassian,” Cahira said, bowing slightly. 

 

“You bow to him, but not to me?” Rhysand teased. Cassian smirked, nudging Rhys with his shoulder. 

 

“He’s your general for a reason. If you were better than him at fighting, I’d assume you were the general of your own troops.” Cassian looked ready to defend him, but Rhys shook his head. 

 

“Anyways, want to spar?” 

 

“Wouldn’t want to hurt your wings,” Cassian said, nodding towards her white wings. 

 

“You said he’d spar with me,” Cahira accused, turning on Rhysand. 

 

“Show him how good you are, and he will.” She grinned, unsheathing her blade. 

 

“Get the lord of this camp out here.” A moment later, and Lord Devlon was there. 

 

“She wants to spar with you,” Cassian said, staring down the lord. 

 

“Don’t blame me if you can’t fly afterward,” Devlon said simply, before disappearing to get ready. Cahira shot into the sky, and Cassian’s eyes followed her as she waited for Devlon to come back.

 

“She run off?” Devlon sneered when he didn’t see her. Cassian just pointed to the sky, where another warrior had taken her up in a fight. She tucked her wings, tumbling down towards the ground before she opened them again and soared behind the Illyrian, coming up behind him and holding her blade to his throat. She let him go, looking down at them. 

 

“Scared?” She taunted, and Devlon launched himself into the air. The sparred, and Cassian could tell Devlon was getting frustrated as she evaded each of his attacks. Eventually, Devlon surrendered and landed on the ground, huffing. Cahira looked winded, but not as much as the lord of the camp. 

 

“Tomorrow, we spar,” Cahira said to Cassian. 

 

“Damn,” Azriel said from the shadows. 

 

“Too bad you don’t have magic,” Cassian teased, flashing his seven siphons. She grinned at him. 

 

“I don’t need magic to be better than Illyrians.” She paused. “Though it certainly helps.” A ring around her thumb flashed, and tattoos that were peeked out from her armor started to glow. 

 

“One ring to control your magic,” Cassian challenged. 

 

“One ring and several tattoos,” she corrected. “Unlike you,” she purred, walking up to Cassian placing a hand on his arm, where his tattoos were. “My tattoos actually do something other than act as a symbol.” 

 

“Dinner?” Rhysand offered. “You two can argue over the food.” 

 

“We’ll be back here tomorrow morning, and I expect the girls to be practicing,” Cassian growled, and Devlon nodded. 

 

“I can help teach them,” Cahira offered. “I might not be an Illyrian, but I understand how to fight with a smaller frame.” Devlon shook his head. 


End file.
